


vibration.

by Bounteous



Series: let me lie beneath myself. [1]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Self-Hatred, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounteous/pseuds/Bounteous
Summary: Aslan struggles to live in the present. But the present is too good to forget about entirely.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Series: let me lie beneath myself. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068368
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> introverted war.
> 
> it’s like i want to be alone  
> but i want to be touched
> 
> -"a beautiful composition of broken" by r.h. Sin

Ash is no longer Ash.

Ash is Aslan now.

Once again.

A lynx still, but only in learned temperament.

Perhaps, with time, that will change too.

Ash still exists within the deepest part of him. He always will. Over the course of a year, Ash has begun to fade into fragments of memories locked tightly away. His breakouts are less frequent. Less traumatic. Less terrifying. But, they still happen.

Eiji doesn’t know about these, though. He can’t. Aslan won’t allow it.

Over the course of a year with someone he loves and who so passionately, so generously loves him back, he still disassociates with the wrong kind of touch. Some days, nights, any kind of touch.

Static fills his ears. Black frays the edges of his vision. Blood runs cold, drains completely from his body. An uncomfortable vibration sets beneath his skin, humming and thrumming until every inch is pain. 

Eiji patiently sits with him, cooing softly until reality is realized and Aslan threads himself together again. They sleep separately on those nights. Eiji never minds. Aslan always does.

It’s not fair to him, to this simple, foreign boy. He never asked for this baggage. He traveled to America to take pictures and clear his mind. Things spiraled out of control. All at the fault of Ash. Aslan? Ash?

Who is he? In this moment?

The letters flicker in and out of existence. 

Lynx. Callenreese. Jade.

Jade. The color of his eyes. His hamartia. 

This face of his should be ripped away until all that’s left is mottled flesh and bone. He wouldn’t look so pretty then. His IQ would still be intact. Maybe he should squeeze his brain between his killer’s hands and ruin it too. Chop off the gold atop his head. 

Eiji would cry. Not for himself, and that’s decidedly worse. So Aslan sits in aggravated silence.

Aslan’s reactions are no longer acutely visible. Their relationship is based on communication. This is best. What Eiji doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

Better to keep the progress a hopeful lie rather than the sad, ugly truth.

That’s Eiji’s hair-petting sometimes turns into tugging and yanking. That those soothing back rubs become nails scratching red into pale skin. That gentle, shared pecks make him want to burn his own lips off. 

Aslan is as much a mess as Ash was. Worse, even. 

Believe him when he says he wants those hands to feel like Eiji’s.

He wants to fall carelessly into his embrace. His mind holds him back by the scruff of his neck.

Recovery is sometimes a worse torture. Has anyone ever thought that? Or is Aslan really as isolated as he feels? 

He’s side-stepped for so long that going forward often seems like the wrong direction.

It’s pathetic how desperately he wants to be hugged and kissed and caressed by hands he knows have never hurt him, will never hurt him. Pathetic? Eiji calls it sweet, adorable even. Eiji feels honored and proud at the same time. 

_ “You’ll get there, Aslan. One day. And if you never do, then that’s okay too.” _

Eiji’s endless patience angers him.

There was a time when Aslan saw Eiji shirtless for the first time. Nothing happened. He had just happened to walk into their bedroom as Eiji was getting dressed. The gunshot wound stared back at him through their dresser mirror and stopped him in his tracks. He felt fear, then red-hot rage, and sadness all in the span of one single second. 

All that was left was the desire to feel the puckered tissue with the tips of his fingers. Perhaps it would only be a brush of skin against skin; a whisper of words unsaid.

Aslan couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to raise his hand. Couldn’t bring himself to voice why his gaze had been lost. Instead, he told Eiji the table had been set and walked away. 

He hasn’t seen him shirtless since. The avoidance is evident, yet left unacknowledged. 

Eiji’s not stupid, but he is polite. This is all on Aslan. 

The responsibility is a solid weight pressing down on his shoulders. 

Tonight, the bed is especially lonely. With rumpled sheets and an indented pillow, Aslan can only reach out into the empty space where a Japanese boy should be. He isn’t far. Only through the cracked door, a few steps down the hall into the living room on the couch. They should switch at the very least. Eiji insists, however, every single time. 

Aslan turns over, restless and pissed off. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love :22.
> 
> but when you touch me  
> i remember how it feels  
> to feel okay
> 
> -'a beautiful composition of broken' by r.h. Sin

Aslan loves Eiji.

He can admit that now.

To Eiji and to himself.

\ He thought trust would’ve been a terrifying leap, but he was in far too deep before he even realized how he fell in the first place. Trust.

It came easy in the beginning. Now? Now he needs extra reassurance considering one, minuscule detail in that his life is no longer in constant, mortal peril. Eiji gives it willingly and unknowingly.

Aslan loves Eiji, truly.

The words haven’t slipped past his lips yet, but the pressure doesn’t exist. Eiji knows because he just does. It’s a fact, like gravity catching Aslan when his knees buckle under emotions suppressed for so long. 

He discovers new feelings every day.

Second-hand sadness when Eiji cries at lost dog posters. Annoyance when Eiji makes him wake up before noon. Anger when ‘American’ food is overpriced at every store they visit. 

Happiness.

He’s found there’s a whole lot to be happy about, lately. 

Small moments exist in which Eiji feels like Eiji and the world doesn’t tilt on its axis and Aslan doesn’t choke on the air circulating through his lungs. He feels… normal, like a domesticated housecat, perhaps. Lounging around, accepting affection on his own terms.

He holds so tightly to those moments his knuckles turn white. 

‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ is a cliche metaphor, but Eiji referenced it once a while back and it’s since stuck with Ash anyway. Recovery isn’t linear. At this point, Aslan’s exhausted with the parabolic sequence in which his recovery is seemingly taking place. 

Repetition grates his nerves into fine dust. 

Dwelling on the past and current failures grates Eiji’s nerves into fine dust.

Aslan loves him for that.

The bad days are bad. But the good days are good, too. They’re good because Aslan can slip his hand into Eiji’s. Because they can lay together, twisted around each other like the two ties Eiji insists reinforce the packaging of their bread. Because Aslan can peacefully fall asleep with his head in Eiji’s lap, firmly believing that the hands scratching and massaging at his scalp radiate warmth and comfort and relief. 

Aslan remembers the night after his first therapy session. He was left a broken, pathetic pile of trauma. Too ashamed to ask for help, yet too far gone to even lift the glass of cold water to his mouth. 

It tumbled from his clumsy, shaking fingers and crashed to the ground, shards spraying, sparkling brilliantly in the last of the evening sunlight. 

The mess lay forgotten as he pushed his head beneath the running faucet, needing to feel… something. Something, anything to distract him from the memories pushing and clawing and biting their way to the forefront of his mind. He remembers wanting his head to explode in that moment when even the freezing rivulets of water soaking his hair, his eyelashes, his t-shirt did nothing.

He doesn’t, however, recall Eiji coming home. Only that, suddenly, the roaring in his ears had stopped and Eiji had asked, “Is it okay for me to touch you?”

Aslan had nodded his head so hard that the wet strands of yellow slapped against his face and neck and Eiji had shielded himself, arms up over his head, from the onslaught of water droplets. 

He was expecting a hug or maybe a gentle caress of a thumb along his cheekbone. Not Eiji grabbing both of his hands and placing one to his chest and the other to his own. The difference in rhythm was astounding, concerning. But Aslan wasn’t having a panic attack, he was just… ‘manic’, he thinks is the word the therapist used.

“Do you feel that?” Eiji asked, so softly and gently.

Aslan nodded dumbly, unable to look into his eyes.

“Remember this: I am alive. You are alive. We are both alive. These heartbeats must never separate. Because mine beats for yours. Does yours beat for mine?”

“Yes” Aslan whispers.

“Say it.”

“My heart beats for your heart.”  
“Again.”

“My heart beats for your heart.”  
“Say it again. Feel yourself say it.”

Aslan looked up at him, then. Tears clouded his vision. They clouded Eiji’s too.

“My heart beats for your heart.” It’s said with conviction.

That was the first time Aslan ever kissed Eiji without hesitation. And the first time Eiji held him without that stupid question.

He hopes someday soon Eiji won’t have to ask.

He appreciates that he does.

But it’d be nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Support my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing! https://ko-fi.com/bounteous


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